


How To Steal A Heart

by hannibalmontanabal



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom, Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Cannibalism, Fluff, Gore, M/M, Murder, twisted fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 22:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/829588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalmontanabal/pseuds/hannibalmontanabal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt that Hannibal's dream of Killer!Will comes true. It's darker than anything I've written so far, and yet I still managed to make it kind of fluffy, in a morbid and twisted kind of way. Smut is loudly implied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Steal A Heart

Will can’t see beyond the satin tie that is covering his eyes, Hannibal has made sure of that. Hannibal is pressed against the small of his back, steady arms wrapping around Will’s torso from behind. His hand gently guides Will’s, and Will trusts him completely. Of that Hannibal is certain.

Will holds in his hand a silver scalpel, and Hannibal is teaching him how to use it to carve into human flesh. Their victim is unconscious, for now. After all, it’s Will’s first kill. Wouldn’t want to make the experience too stressful. Trust therapy, Hannibal calls it. Will had laughed bitterly at that.

“More like taking my virginity.” He’d spat.

“You’ve killed, before, Will.” Hannibal had answered, smirking. 

“Not.. Not like this.” Will had said, his expression practically a buffet of emotions for Hannibal to devour. “You’ll be popping my murder cherry.” 

And Hannibal had laughed. Possibly harder than he ever had before. Will laughed nervously with him, and the image of Will’s smile in that moment would linger in Hannibal’s mind for the rest of his days.

Hannibal had never dared to dream that Will would accept him for what he was. He’d lusted after the idea, of course. Salivating over the image of William, so like a cherub, grinning madly as he stole someone’s life. How many times had Hannibal’s eyes glazed over wistfully as he envisioned his precious Will drenched in blood rather than night sweat. Will embracing his morbid nightmares rather than running away from them. The idea wasn’t entirely self-indulgent; he knew Will would sleep better if he accepted his own bloodlust. And god, how beautiful Will would be if only he gave in to temptation and allowed himself to rip into someone’s flesh. Hannibal wanted nothing more than to watch Will tear out the throat of a deserving victim, swallowing the blood and tissue greedily like the vampire legends of old. Blood suited Will- flattered him.

But Hannibal never dared to hope that when Will’s eyes lit up with horrific realization, that Will would have the capacity to understand. When Will’s face contorted in resentment, disgust and the pain of betrayal, his voice quivering and hushed as he hissed, “You.” Hannibal never let himself become attached to the idea that maybe, just maybe, Will would listen and empathize. 

“Yes.” He’d answered, his hand ghosting over the blade he kept in his pocket. He felt the faintest tug of sadness in the pit of his chest. Unfortunate that he’d have to take Will’s brilliant light from the world. He’d leave roses on Will’s grave often, the doctor had thought.

Sweet Will, his lovely eyes glittering with tears, had uttered in such innocence, “Why?” 

“Why?” Hannibal had repeated, finding it unexpectedly difficult to kill Will right away. 

“I opened up to you, you monster. I trusted you so completely that I.. I..” Will had said venomously, teeth clenched. He pounded his fists on Hannibal’s chest, wheezing in anguish. And Hannibal let him. He didn’t stab Will while he sobbed. Didn’t even kill him when Will had swung and punched him square in the jaw. Will’s grief was understandable. 

Once Will was calm, his breath evening out, though still raspy with adrenaline, he had looked Hannibal into the eyes (which sent electricity through Hannibal’s being; Will almost never maintained eye contact) and firmly whispered, “Show me. I want to understand.” 

Of course Will would be empathetic. Forgiving as a saint. Of course he wouldn’t let something as fickle as life and death put an end to the only solid relationship he’d ever known.

Hannibal had kissed Will, then. Crushing his lips against Will’s with feverish intensity. For the first time in Hannibal’s existence, he felt that maybe he could be himself around someone. If he handled the situation delicately, maybe, just maybe, he could let down his walls. Remove his masks and barriers and let Will in.

Maybe Will would even find him beautiful. That would be quite the love story.

So here they stand, in Hannibal’s kitchen. Hannibal steadying Will’s hand as they make the first incision. Together. 

“Do you trust me, Will?” Hannibal breathes the words against Will’s ear. 

Will hesitates, but the answer is a soft and even, “I do.”

_Such a romantic, my dear Will._

_  
_And it feels like the words truly are wedding vows.

Hannibal guides Will’s hand to slice into the girl’s delicate windpipes, evenly cutting through her vocal chords. 

“Like this?” Will whispers as Hannibal watches the girl’s eyes flutter open, her red painted lips forming a silent scream. 

“Just like this.” He smiles, gently kissing Will’s shoulder. Hannibal removes the tie so that Will can see what he’s done, and Will stares down at the pool of blood that spills off of the kitchen counter as the girl’s life leaves her eyes, flickering away like a light.

He gasps sharply, becomes unsteady on his feet, but Hannibal holds him. Stabilizes him. 

“Shh.” Hannibal hushes gently, eyes catching on the way the scalpel glistens, surreal in the low light. Will sucks in a breath and relaxes slightly. “There’s no turning back now, my pet.” 

Will nods. 

“What do I do now?” He asks, his voice steady. Hannibal smiles.

“Cut out her heart.” Hannibal breathes, not even attempting to veil the lust in his tone. And with Hannibal’s hand to guide him, Will does, and in doing so steals Hannibal’s heart as well.

 

They eat well that night, Hannibal breaking out his finest chardonnay in celebration of Will’s first kill. They’d cleaned the blood and disposed of the body in silence. Hannibal had wondered if Will regretted his decision, but all doubts were silenced when Will grabbed his hand in the darkness. 

Will eats the heart with no trace of guilt in his dazzling eyes. When he’s finished, he looks up to Hannibal and smiles that beautifully broken smile.

“What about dessert?” He asks.

Hannibal knows he’s created a monster. All of Will’s fragility and fear drained in Hannibal’s sink with that girl’s blood, disappearing down the drain forever. What’s left is a beast of a man, with wild eyes and a savage grin.

It’s the Will of Hannibal’s dreams, and the doctor is head over heels in love as he fucks his fallen angel into the mattress.

**Author's Note:**

> My mother would be so proud.  
> Comments, critiques, prompts, etc. always welcome.


End file.
